


i’m fine, just a little lightheaded, mrs danvers

by danihi



Series: my allegiance belongs to mrs de winter [4]
Category: Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca - Levay/Kunze
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/F, LMAO this might just be the first one with plot but still gonna use this tag, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, this is gonna ruin the surprise byt better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danihi/pseuds/danihi
Summary: Things seem to have fallen slowly into a routine. The master off to his work and the mistress in bed with her housekeeper when all too suddenly some surprise news threatens to tear the proud mansion apart.
Relationships: Mrs Danvers (Rebecca)/ Narrator (Rebecca), Mrs Danvers/Ich, Mrs Danvers/Ich (Rebecca), Mrs. Danvers/Ich
Series: my allegiance belongs to mrs de winter [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818586
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

I pulled her into my room, God knows I’d been feeling sick all morning, and I needed her. 

“I’m doing well too, Mrs de Winter,” she said as I nuzzled and kissed her neck. 

She always smelt like the sea; fresh, crisp and cold. I’d pushed her against the door and had started unbuttoning her shirt before a wave of nausea passed over me. I turned sharply from her neck, ready to vomit, but it was gone and the churning in my stomach had stopped as soon as it came.  
I relaxed my body and laid my head on her shoulder. The mood had soured; the bile in my throat had gone back down but I knew my mouth stank. I didn’t feel like kissing her anymore, but I didn’t want her to leave either. 

She sighed, “I can call a doctor for you—”

“No,” I said all too quickly, “Just… let me rest on you a while.”

Her hands dropped from my hips and she stood there, distant and rigid, like I was leaning against a wall. Her affinity for me always stopped when we weren’t hungry for each other, her passion for my body was just that, a way to satiate herself with flesh. But I felt a sting of rejection almost; my hunger was far more than skin deep.

I lifted my head slowly from her shoulder and began to redo her buttons, inching my way to her brooch. I reclasped it and stepped away from her, and she, like she always did, made her exit gracefully and without words.

I felt cold. 

Maxim wouldn’t be home until tomorrow, and I was left with an empty bed. It was far too early to sleep but too late to start anything else. My stomach churned at the thought of being alone. Which was quickly replaced by a need to vomit, and one I couldn’t force down. I rushed to the toilet and choked up my lunch. 

I wiped my face, a sinking feeling tugged beneath my belly, and gargled water, but I wouldn’t entertain the thought. Desperately, I need somewhere to escape but, for as giant and imposing as Manderley was, there was not a room in this house that I couldn’t feel anxiety nipping at my heels. Before I knew it, I had been pacing around my room trying to decide what to do. I had a habit of walking with no intelligible thoughts in my head for periods of time, and without my noticing a long while had already passed.

I sat down at my vanity and stood back up again. There was no point in sitting there bouncing my leg and waiting for time to pass. I shouldn’t have let her leave in the first place.  
I made my way to Mrs Danvers’ room and regretted it as soon as I knocked. Did I really need her this badly? She opened the door and the answer was yes.

I threw myself onto her. The anxiety that had been bubbling beneath had burst into a sudden uncharacteristic attack leaving us both surprised. We ended up stumbling into her room my lips locking onto hers without pause for a breath. As she recovered her balance, she broke off the kiss but not before I’d bit her lip. A curious smirk played at the corner of her mouth. She pushed me against the door closing it shut, her hands pulling at my skirt—pulling it up—revealing my knees and then my thighs rather than the easier option of just taking it off. 

“Where has your desperation gone, Mrs de Winter?”

I didn’t realise I’d stop paying attention to her mouth, the cold hands travelling up my skirt were far too distracting.  
“I wasn’t desperate.” She fingered the waistband, her other hand on my ribs and inching it’s way to my breast. “I… I’m just—”

“A little excited?”

I grabbed her collar, forcing my lips onto hers. I wanted to rid her face of that smile. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and she pushed back with her own. I just needed her now and on top of me. And urgently, much more so than when she had come up to my room.

It was my turn to push. I shoved her harder than I expected, and she landed on the bed with a resounding thump, that teasing smile still dancing on her face. I went for her neck whilst my hands worked at her shirt. I pulled her blood to the surface and knew it would bloom into a spectacular bruise, not that anyone other than I would see it, but the thought of her carrying a mark I’d made was enough for me. Though, a bite mark would suit her better. 

She sucked in air as my teeth dug into her soft flesh and her hands pushed at my abdomen, her body tensing like I’d branded her with hot iron. I gave it as punishment for rebuffing me earlier in daring to ask for comfort. I just wanted her warmth and this time I was giving it back in painful fire. 

Her jaw clenched when I applied more force. I smiled; my teeth still buried in her flesh. But it was to be my downfall. In relishing her pain, I had created an opening and she jammed her hand up my throat and pushed me off. I choked for breath and I pulled away which she used as an opportunity to turn our dynamic around. Before I knew it, I was pinned to the bed, her hands at my wrists and her body on top of mine.  
I felt instant regret. I knew that whatever she was to do to me next would be worse; tenfold of that bite mark I’d given her. 

She grinned, almost to congratulate me, “Desperate, excited and somewhat confident. I wonder what our Mrs de Winter feels so strongly about today?”

This was hardly the first time I’d initiated or led our meetings, but she knew there was something different. She grabbed the meat of my thighs and pushed them up and then, using her legs, straddled me—pinning my legs in the air—leaving her hands free to hike up my skirt. Her fingers rode their way up to my undergarments. The churning in my stomach started once more and I prayed that it would leave, I didn’t want this to be ruined again.

She ran her fingers over the fabric between my legs and I grabbed at her collar, pulling her into a kiss. I pushed my tongue into her mouth with the same vigour I wanted her fingers in me. She smirked as I broke away whimpering when she slid her finger even harder against the fabric, pushing it up but not away. 

And then I was struck with an all too embarrassing realisation of what I had done. How much and how quickly I had run back to her. My ears burned and I lost my confidence. 

I dropped my hands from her clothing and relaxed defeated on the bed. She was the one in control and would be always. I turned my head to hide the shame that was surely colouring my face. 

“Shall I give you a mark too?”

She lowered her head into the same spot I’d bit her at, the part where my neck met my shoulder, and traced lazily circles over it with her tongue. 

“Maxim is coming home tomorrow.”

She looked bothered as I pushed her off, her lips making a soft smack as they left my skin.

“Perhaps you’d like my mouth somewhere else then, Mrs de Winter?”

Her hand had moved from between my legs to beneath my thigh, pushing it up and opening my legs wider. I squirmed, I didn’t want to play games at this point, I just wanted what I came here for.

The churning in my stomach grew worse, I wanted release now.

“Please, I just need…”

She took her free hand and moved my underwear away, not bothering to take it off, and pushed a finger in. I inhaled sharply, the waves in my stomach were overtaken by something else entirely. My back had tensed without me knowing and as she stuck another finger in and moved them around, I felt my body sink back into the bed. She was almost too slow, but I relished the feeling nonetheless.

Her lips did find somewhere else. She’d trailed kisses across my collarbones and stopped at the dip between my breasts right above my heart. If she could feel my heartbeat as she drew her tongue across my skin she’d find my heart hammering against her lips. Her pace quickened and my breath grew uneven.

We’d been trying but every time this past month I’d felt too ill to even get her hand between my legs. I missed her body over top mine, her hot breath, the way she smiled—her teeth grazing my skin—as my body arched into hers. I moaned as her fingers twitched inside me.

The sense of urgency from earlier came back. I grabbed her hips and pulled it into my own, trapping her hand and pressing it further into me, her fingers forced to go deeper inside. 

Her mouth moved from my chest to my ribs just below my breast. Her saliva running down my body as her tongue drew a path. I knew that bruises would blossom where she’d kissed the next morning. But it wasn’t the only place that was beyond soaking.

She thrust her finger in deep and I tried to cover my mouth with my arm but a yelp escaped nonetheless. My ears burned. She kept her fingers moving and I moved my hips with her pace, sounds escaping loudly from my throat without care. I felt her entertain the idea of parting my flesh with another finger but deciding against it and instead moved her thumb over that sensitive nub.

I dug my nails into her back and pulled her body deeply into mine, biting my lip open to keep myself from crying out, as an intense wave of release rippled across my body.  
She shifted her weight a bit to give me more space to breathe, my chest still rising and falling erratically.

“Are you alright?”

I wasn’t sure what possessed me to take her hand and put in on my chest but I wanted her to feel my heart hammering into her palm.

“I’m fine, just a little lightheaded, Mrs Danvers,” I said between breaths.

  
****

  
Maxim waved at me from the car. He slammed it shut and made his way to Manderley’s main entrance where I greeted him with a kiss.

“How are you?”

“Just fine. How was your trip?”

“Same old, same old. But I finally have a couple of weeks before I go back again.”

I wasn’t sure what it was that he did in London, but I was thankful that I had time for myself. Whenever he was home I was practically joined to his hip.

“How long will you be gone when you do?”

“Oh, a few days.”

We strolled into the drawing room where tea had already been served. Maxim took off his blazer and hat and nonchalantly threw them onto the couch. He dropped into his favourite armchair and stretched his legs, letting his body relax. I poured some tea and offered it to him. 

He grabbed yesterday’s paper and flicked it open, “And how’s it been here?”

“The usual I suppose.”

“And what is that?”

“Like every other day—Oh! But Beatrice came to visit and she—”

“Could you massage my back darling,” he interrupted.

I got up and did as I was told, “Yes, so Beatrice came over and she gave me some—”

“Actually, on second thought, before the day’s over, I’d like a stroll in the Happy Valley. Come with me.”

“Ah, sure, of course.” He grabbed his hat and opened the doors to the terrace. 

He’d already walked a while, not bothering to wait for me to get my own hat, and I had run to catch up to him.

“I can’t wait until summer is over, far too hot for my taste.”

I took his arm and matched his pace.

“Yes,” I huffed, a little out of breath, “Though autumn here is a little colder than in London.”

He stopped, “Since when have you been to London?”

The accusatory tone in his voice made me nervous, “I’ve stayed there a while with Mrs Van Hopper.”

“Ah, yes.” He continued walking. The churning feeling in my stomach began to grow.

“You were saying about Beatrice,” he said after a brief silence.

“She came over with more painting books th—”

“They’re a nuisance you know, eventually we’ll have to throw them out along with all the encyclopedias she’d gifted me over the years. She’s very quick to tell me to educate myself and yet she’s the one who says things without care.”  
His pace sped up.

“I’d already told her many times to stop buying me those thick books. I assure you my education far exceeds her own, my father knew to send me to a university. And yet, Beatrice is always yapping about some topic or other.”  
His voice started to rise as he ranted.

“Just a month ago she tried to lecture me about hunting. Father knows I was the better shot, but she just has to keep telling everyone how I missed that one fox, I—”

“Maxim…”

I clutched at my stomach, and though we couldn’t hear the sea, I felt it beneath my belly; swirling with contempt and sending waves of nausea.

He finally stopped. And then frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m feeling sick, Maxim.”

He sighed, his tone betrayed annoyance, “Then why did you come with me?”

“You told me to.”

He looked up at the sky, contemplating what to do. I felt the world sway and feared I’d need to rush to a toilet soon.

“Fine. Let’s go back,” he turned around and marched back.

When we returned my legs felt like jelly. The waves had moved from my stomach to my head, and the contrast of the brightness of the sun against the sudden darkness inside didn’t help things as I tried to grab onto a surface to steady myself.

“Maxim…” He didn’t respond. “Maxim I—”

And all I remembered after that was seeing the floor rush to greet my face.

  
****

  
“Excuse me, Mrs de Winter, if I may?” the Doctor gestured at my shirt.

I untucked it and he slipped his stethoscope underneath, the cold metal of it sending a shiver up my spine.

“And now the front.”

My eyes met Maxim’s. If he saw the bruises on my chest and on my ribs of last night… Discomfort flickered across my face and the Doctor shifted as if to say he felt the same. My head started to feel light, if only I hadn’t been so reckless…

“Can’t you just put it on her shirt, the clothing is thin, it’s summer for god’s sake,” Maxim interrupted, annoyance simmering beneath his voice.

The doctor looked at Maxim and then at me. “Just one button is fine. I only need to place it here,” he put two fingers a little below his collarbone. The bruise was only a little lower than there, and he was sure to notice. I looked at Mrs Danvers but she was staring hard out the window. The sun was setting fast and the more I stalled the more Maxim became visibly irritated.

“P-Perhaps… I could place it myself?” I proposed. The Doctor sighed with a hint of relief, we’d reached a compromise, and finally Maxim sat himself down, his jittery energy fading somewhat. The Doctor offered the stethoscope and I took it, placing it where he had gestured.

“Now breathe deeply, Mrs de Winter.” I followed his example and gave him back the stethoscope when he was satisfied. He stood and said to Maxim, “Well, it doesn’t appear to be heatstroke. Her temperature is not unnaturally high nor does her breathing sound impaired.”

“Then what is it?”

They both turned to me as if I knew what was wrong. The Doctor coughed, “Mrs de Winter, have you been feeling ill at all recently, apart from today?”

“… Yes… In the mornings I had felt lightheaded—but I think it’s because I’d been sleeping badly, though, it has gotten worse…”

“Sleeping badly?” The Doctor said and Maxim raised an eyebrow.

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked at my hands hoping that they couldn’t catch the faint blush rushing to my cheeks. I stole a glance at Mrs Danvers; she was still off in the distance.

I cleared my throat, “Just… waiting for you to come home.”  
Maxim rubbed at his neck; the Doctor glanced at him looking for an explanation.

“You shouldn’t have,” he readjusted his tie, “Driving from London to here is long and exhausting. I’m bound to be late. You should have just gone to sleep.”

The Doctor turned to me and I continued, “The nausea used to just be in the mornings but now…”

He shifted uncomfortably and shot a glance at Maxim, “If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs de Winter, when was the last time you had your period.”

Maxim stood up suddenly, “She’s pregnant?”

The words rang in my ears. Maxim and the Doctor kept talking, it was something I was sure I should’ve been paying attention but I felt overwhelmingly numb. A baby?

I looked at my stomach, I’d hardly paid attention to it, or rather, I paid attention to other things. I touched the bruise on my chest, and the scene came rushing back into focus.

“Well, yes, but she must be how far along now?”

I looked at Mrs Danvers, her entire body had turned completely away from the conversation. I could feel the tension in her back and I felt my own body mirror hers.

“When was the last time?”

She turned her head towards Maxim. Maxim looked at me. And I looked at my hands.

“A while,” he said as I felt his stare drill holes into my being, “I’d been in London for a couple weeks.” 

“How about a few months back? Did you…” Maxim directed his stare to the Doctor and the man didn’t dare finish his sentence. After a long silence Maxim sighed and sat back down. 

“It’s possible. But… you mean to say,” he clasped his hands in an uneasy pause, “It’s already been a few months and you didn’t think to mention it?” His question was directed at me. I didn’t know how to respond. How could I have known? All this time I thought it was a symptom of an entirely different problem.

“Considering it’s her first pregnancy it’s not that big of an issue, many women don’t know until they’re well and truly on their way,” the Doctor piped in.

Maxim rubbed his eyes and stood up, “Mrs Danvers, can you get Mrs de Winter to bed. I’d like a few private words with the Doctor.”

She crossed the room from the window to the door and held it open for me.

  
****

  
“Mrs Danvers,” I started to say but she cut me off with a glare.  
She’d taken me up to my room just as Maxim had said to—where, just last night, everything was fine. I could’ve said it was good, even. But now…

“I’m sorry, Mrs Danvers.”

I looked down at my hands and fiddled with my wedding ring. I didn’t even know what I was apologising for, only that I felt compelled to. 

Our silence only stretched on. The waves of nausea I’d been swaying from before had been replaced with waves of anxiety. I wanted her to say something, even yell at me, so long as I knew what she felt, that I could take. I stole a glance at her but her expression had not changed, fixed blankly and unreadable, the uncertainty of her thoughts brought panic into my own. But, there was one thought that presided above all others.

What would happen to us now? 

Our relationship was based entirely on the foundation that we were there for each other’s use—for each other’s pleasure—then, what would happen if we weren’t able to do that? Would she discard me? I had given my flesh in exchange for hers. The deficit we felt in our lives, in our loves—of hers for Rebecca and of mine with Maxim—we filled that hole for each other if albeit only for moments at a time. I gave her a body that she could touch, and she gave me the warmth and fire I desired. Now that this body would belong to another how could I even begin to justify the way I wanted her? I _did_ want her. More than she could ever want of me. And so, I was the only one bound to lose, wasn’t I?

“I didn’t…” I said a little too loudly, “want it to be like this either.”

She turned away from me.

“I… Maxim… We…” I sighed, there was no other way to explain this, I knew that. 

And she knew I was still Mrs de Winter—that I was still Maxim’s wife. I didn’t have control over that. But the sheer fact remained; I could never belong to her, the way Rebecca didn’t either, the way that we were both tied to Maxim.   
I wondered often that had I come to Manderley as anyone else would she still have wanted me then? Had I been a maid caught sneaking around the late Mrs de Winter’s bedroom would she have kissed me? Pushed me against the mirror and taken me then?

“I wasn’t trying to. I mean… how could I have even…”

Would she have touched any woman who bore the title? The question flitted across my mind.

“If there was a way I could go back to yesterday—no, to before all that, before this. I would.”

I looked at her for answers, searching, searching her back, twisted and rigid. Just say something. Anything. I would’ve even welcomed her anger. It would have meant that she cared enough to be bothered by it.

“Mrs Danvers, please…” my voice broke.

Would she have bruised her with kisses?

“How do I fix this?” tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over my cheeks.

Surely not.

“Say something… anything…” my body began to shake. 

But then again, how selfish of me to think that I out of hundreds of others Maxim could have chosen—those who suited the title more than I—would have more claim to a woman who had already told me, over and over, that she loved someone I was only the shadow of.

“P-Please, just—” I grabbed her arm, “—I don’t want this to come between us.”

Her body stiffened.

“Us? What makes you think there is an us?” she hissed back at me.

My heart sank into my gut. I let go of her arm.

“Mrs de Winter,” she said, her voice mocking, “I suppose you’ve forgotten who you are.”

She turned her head finally meeting my eyes.

“You’ll never be my Rebecca.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General abuse and physical abuse trigger warning. DEAD DOVE DON'T EAT

When Beatrice heard the news she came rushing right away. It seemed as if one moment I was on the phone with her and the next she was striding through Manderley’s entrance with an excited grin on her face. She hugged me tightly and laughed heartily. Maxim would be displeased at the ruckus she was causing. And as I thought of the devil there he came.

“What’s going on?” he said as he entered the drawing room.

“Dear Maxim, have you forgotten your sister?! I hear the news broke a week ago and I was left in the dark.”

Maxim rubbed his eyes and turned his back to face us as if he was turning to walk out.

“Well, now you know,” he said with a sigh and walked off to the other side of the room, his attention running down the spines of books.

Beatrice turned to me. “Darling, congratulations again. Please forgive my brother if he isn’t as ecstatic as he should be. After all, it is your first child and you deserve all the attention. If you ever need any help I’m here. Having given birth to a few children you could I say I have some experience in the matter! But, yes dear, you need to gain some weight. How sickly you look!”

She took my hand and wrapped her index and her thumb around it. “Look at that, there’s still space. Please, do try to eat. Even now, when it’s hard to keep it down.”

She smiled at me warmly and I promised that I would. How ever much Maxim seemed irritated by Beatrice, I could only feel myself wanting to cling onto her. She reminded me so much of Mrs Van Hopper but in a softer, less haughtier, way. I wanted to rest my head against her shoulder and I knew if I did she would be surprised for a moment but would then easily wrap her arms around me. I shivered.

“Oh, is it cold?” She had noticed. “I was positively sweating out in the sun before I thought to ring you up. Good day for a picnic.”

“She doesn’t need to be going outside and fainting all over the place,” Maxim said.

I’d almost forgotten he was in the room. I looked out the window to hide my unease from Beatrice. Things had been funny between Maxim and I. He didn’t seem happy nor angry about anything that had happened, almost like he was removed entirely from the celebrations Beatrice insisted on having. I didn’t know whether to take it as good or bad news until he had his say of it, but with the tense mood around the house it seemed to err on the side of the latter.

“Oh, the fainting spells will be gone by next week, I assure you. It’s better to enjoy this beautiful day. Once autumn rolls in we won’t be having any of this nice weather. Besides you must throw a party.”

I flinched at the sound of it. The last time had not gone well, and from then on were only small gatherings between Maxim and his friends, ones where I would only bid them welcome and then goodbye.

“It’s far too much a hassle.” Maxim said and I gladly nodded.

“Yes, Beatrice, I don’t have the energy in me to plan one.”

“My dear, you must! If not then I will organise the arrangements myself. Let’s liven up Manderley again.”

“Stop this nonsense,” Maxim huffed, his temper starting to show.

“This is not nonsense. This is a celebration of new life! Maxim I don’t understand why you wouldn’t be excited. I know you are a fussy man but please don’t be a gloom.”

“I can be whatever I want,” he said trying hard to keep his voice steady.

In response Beatrice said almost exasperated, “then be happy about the news. You will pass on father’s legacy, is that not what you wanted? Even after 13 years of marriage, you couldn’t produce a single heir with Rebecca.”

Maxim banged his band against the bookcase. The air went stale. I found it hard to breathe all of a sudden and let tears prick at my eyes as I struggled not to choke out loud.

“We’re not having a party,” he hissed, “and that is the end of it.”

“That’s no way to treat your older sibling.”

“Oh, Beatrice shut up!” He grabbed a book and threw it hard.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her up. “Please, Beatrice, thank you… so much for… coming in—dropping by. I… We…” I struggled with my words and I pleaded her with my eyes to follow me out the drawing room. “You… You said you have guests later tonight, right? You must get ready for them, yes?”

She took my trembling hands from her arm and held it tightly in her own. She looked at me as if to say it wasn’t my fault and I felt like bursting into tears then. And, turning her head towards maxim, said, “Your wife is right, I’ll be taking my leave.”

Beatrice gave my hands one more tight squeeze and made her way out of the drawing room. I accompanied her outside to her car.

She said, before she turned the engine on and sped down the long driveway, “I’m sorry.”

I stood there watching the dust kicked up by the now long gone vehicle settle back down. The sun was still shining hot. And thought it was already well into the afternoon it still cast a solid black shadow of myself onto the ground. I should have been sweating but, if someone had touched me then, they’d find I was cold to the bone.

****

Maxim was there sitting at the edge of the bed. It was past midnight. His head was in his hands, his back bent over into the shape of a question mark.

We both had been having trouble sleeping this past week days.

“Maxim,” I said closing the door behind.

He lifted his head and wiped his hand across his face. Just from his back I could tell he was more than tense. Seething cold enveloped me as I walked over to him. The window in the room had been left open and though it was summer the breeze wafting through was freezing—the kind that felt like pins and needles. He had his head in his hands again, his leg bouncing as nervously as my heart was pounding.

I knelt at his feet and stroked his leg, willing his tapping heel to stop, “Maxim.”

He didn’t respond. I went on my knees and took his hands from his face replacing it with my own, “Maxim.”

His eyes were bloodshot. I flinched unintentionally and he grabbed my wrist, digging his nails into my skin. I stared at the throbbing vein on his forehead, the rest of his face was twisted into a scowl but I dared not meet his gaze; I knew not to look at a beasts eyes lest I provoke a fight.

“Maxim,” I whispered, closing my eyes. His grip only worsened and I bit my lip to keep myself from yelping out. Soon he’d snap my wrist in half. “Please, I’m sorry.” I lowered my head in pain, tears pricking in my eyes. “I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

He eased up on my wrist, and even used this thumb to stroke the blooming purple skin. I met his eyes. But I shouldn’t have.

Maxim yanked my arm and pulled me into his body. He held me into himself; with ferocity such that I thought I’d somehow fuse into him. I struggled, however, my arms were pinned to his chest, and it was only in vain my attempt to squirm my way out of his grasp.

But his arms only squeezed tighter.

At this rate I was sure to pass out; the dizziness I’d been feeling before entering the room only intensified as his hand clutched onto my neck, pushing my face deeper into his chest. I thought if he’d put anymore force I would burst through his ribs and find a hole between his lungs, and then he’d tell me that I was his heart, and I’d apologise I didn’t fill him sooner.

“Who is it?” he growled.

I couldn’t answer from beneath his body.

“Who is it?!” he barked and threw me onto the floor. I coughed, desperately sucking in air to ease the pounding inside my head. He stood there looming over me. “There must be someone else, right?”

The edge in his voice made every part of me scream with danger. He knelt down and took my arm, lifting my body as if I weighed nothing. I scrambled to stand as he jerked it up sending ripples of pain from my shoulder. If he pulled any more this would be the third time he would have dislocated it.

“I don’t understand,” I managed to choke out.

He let go of my arm and turned his head away from me, “The father of that baby.”

My eyes widened; the thought of Mrs Danvers flitted across my mind. Then, anger filled my body.

“Maxim how could you?” I said softly at first, letting some uneasy time pass before I said another word. “Who else could there be?!” I yelled, I couldn’t hold it in, tears streamed down my cheeks. “There’s only you—there’s only ever been you—you’re the one person I have here!” I wanted to tell him how much I hated it here, how terribly lonely I was. I never asked for this.

“I don’t have much to give you—this is all that I can give you! I’m gave you my life! I gave you—am giving you, and always will, my body for your purpose! Your use!” I said with each passing word becoming quieter until my outburst had lost its momentum.

I hunched my back, the sting of his accusations sent more waves of pain and nausea than his physical blows. It was like salt on an open wound to think even my own husband couldn’t accept it. I sobbed noisily and he stood there; unmoved and uncaring, rubbing is eyes as though he was dealing with a whimpering puppy.

My legs gave out from under me and I dropped to my knees, crying and grovelling at Maxim’s feet. He knelt down in the same manner he did before and took my arm. I snatched my hand away at his touch, fearing he’d do it again.

He sighed. “I’m sorry you felt hurt by that,” he said slowly, “It’s just… I… couldn’t believe it. You… have to forgive me, I… couldn’t help it.”

He reached out to me again but I batted his hand away.

“Just—” he grabbed my forearm and pulled me into him again, “—let me hold you.”

I held my head up from his chest to make sure I could at least breathe this time. He nuzzled his own into my neck.

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he breathed into my skin sending a shiver up my spine.

He must have felt me shudder and held me tighter. He thumbed the small of my back, a gesture that radiated warmth—it felt almost tender. I had almost forgotten the window was open and as I looked up I saw the curtains dancing in the wind underneath the window he had me pinned against. The cold from the floor had started seeping up my legs and my thighs and I felt almost compelled to wrap them around maxim’s waist. He stroked my back, softly, running small circles and massaging my taut muscles.

I rubbed my face into the fabric of his shirt trying to dry the tears that hadn’t stopped flowing. My body felt so heavy all of a sudden.

It was true; I only had him in all of Manderley.

He was the one who brought me here and, if he desired, he would be the one to take me out.

I stopped struggling and melted into his embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

I found nothing else to do but to retreat deep into Maxim.

And, I saw myself waiting for him, waiting for his every beck and call, not that he needed or called for me. But I was there patiently waiting for the time that he would. The loneliness only grew in my belly, as did the foreign thing too. I felt it move every so slightly now and again, in moments where there was nothing to do and nothing to think about. In those few seconds I’d start to feel something akin to contempt that would always morph into pity; for myself or for this child I did not know but it was there all the same.

Everyday I woke up with a different ache, and today was no different. The muscles in my shoulder, the ones that reached from my arm connecting to my back, twinged with pain. It made the muscles just below the nape of my neck throb which sent waves of nausea across my head. I sat up slowly, the staleness of the air kept me in that sleep like trance, though I had already been awake for the better part of an hour staring aimlessly at the ceiling. I wanted to lie back down and let the day pass but I knew it would cost me more trouble.

Clarice no longer helped dress me in the morning. I’d asked her not to and she looked at me puzzled, I should be requiring more help these days I sensed her think, but I didn’t want anyone to see me bare. My body was changing and it felt wrong. The little bit of fat that had always clung to my stomach was now rounding and filling out. Each day, the clothes that had served me for so long under Mrs Van Hopper grew tighter. But what would be fashionable these days I didn’t know.

There were too many things I didn’t know. Beatrice had come by a few times to check on me, and explain some things. I thought it all methodical beforehand; carry a baby for nine months and then give birth, how hard could it be? I’d seen so many other mothers carry about with their lives, unbothered, glowing as they dined in those immaculate hotels and holding onto their husbands arms as they strolled beside the sea. I used to sigh in envy at them but now the skies were grey, there would be no strolling or dining beautifully in the bright sun, and there was no husband in sight whose arm I could cling to.

Maxim had gone off to London and left his expecting wife behind. I felt the dizziness rush to my head and I bolted for the bathroom. I had not stopped throwing up, even after Beatrice had said it was meant to stop. The room rocked like a boat and I felt like crying then. It was so easy to shed tears nowadays. Every little thing seemed to set me off. I picked myself off of the floor and gargled some water.

The days when Beatrice would unexpectedly visit were days I liked the most. I found myself wishing as I walked down the staircase for her to be in the drawing room. She’d taken on a larger part of my life than before. I had thought of her as rather too outspoken, too brash, at times but her enthusiasm felt like a saving grace. She was not here, not today, because of course she had her own life. I went down to the library where Clarice was waiting. She greeted me with a polite nod and I sat down to take a bite of a sandwich she’d prepared with some other things earlier. She poured tea for me now, the water lukewarm, as if she had not learned to prepare it later rather than sooner.

“Have any letters come in today, Clarice?”

“No, Mrs de Winter,” she said slowly, as if to curb my disappointment.

“Would you pass me the paper?”

She did so, and she knew to leave me alone then.

I flipped through it mindlessly to give off the impression that I was doing something. There was a fire somewhere in London. A woman died, a wife and a mother, the smoke was visible from quite a distance away or so the paper said. I wondered if it hurt more to burn to death than to drown. I knew the feeling of drowning, but I’d never been burned before.

There was a little party trick a mate of Mrs Van Hoppers used to play when they’d all gotten drunk enough to be amused by anything. He’d flick open his lighter and light a flame. Then he’d run his finger through it and Mrs Van Hopper would laugh and clap like a seal. He’d do it a few more times and it was like it was a pet to him. It licked his fingers playfully much like Jasper would. The dog and I had not gotten along well, I assumed he was waiting for someone else to come home with Maxim. Either way, the man never did get burned even though he himself was drunk. It was curious to watch them all entranced like that.

Drowning is such an impersonal and cold affair. It’s a suffocating experience where water will rush to fill you up but you feel empty all the same. They say that you merely fall asleep; your body goes limp and it floats lazily in the water’s currents. But they always fail to mention the thrashing, the fighting, the clawing as you pull at anything to bring you over the water’s surface before all that happens.

I choked on the piece of sandwich I’d been chewing. I spat it into handkerchief and felt the sting behind my eyes. My stomach swirled and I made the motion to throw up what little I had eaten but nothing would rise to my throat. Dry air rushed in instead and made it even more difficult to swallow. I coughed until I felt my stomach return to its position.

I sank into the sofa and rest my head in my hands. Warm tears wet my palms and I stayed like that until they were dry again. I was so tired I thought I’d pass out but Clarice had returned. Her hand on my shoulder shocked me out of myself. Her face expressed concern, but I merely gestured to the mostly uneaten plate and the handkerchief to be cleared away.

I looked at the grandfather clock behind me. It was not even noon yet. The day had so many minutes to it and there was so little things to fill it with. I wished I was a maid instead; there must be lots of work to be done and it seemed a better fit for me.

Sometimes I wondered had I not come to Manderley as the new Mrs de Winter, would I be so much happier? Clarice seemed happy enough. What if I had been a maid like her? What if we had come to Manderley together? We’d become fast friends I was sure. But with the way things were where she had to call me Mrs de Winter no comradery of the sort would bloom between us. I smiled at the thought of us being scolded together.

I was so lonely; it almost brought me to tears again.

I stood up to exercise the sadness that had settled at my feet. I needed to move, I needed to keep myself busy somehow. I walked into the Morning room and felt my heart jump into my throat.

Mrs Danvers was there, kneeled at the feet of the orchids, cleaning the stems of dead leaves. Her deft hands precise and quick. She didn’t seem to notice me at all at first. I took a step back and she rose unexpectedly.

She would not look at me but she spoke slowly, “Do you need the use of the Morning room, Madam?”

I swallowed tightly, “No, no… I thought to get something but I’m mistaken, I must’ve left it somewhere else.”

I didn’t know whether to leave or to wait for her to say something. We had nothing to say to each other and had not spoken since that night except for formalities.

She looked at me then, her eyes red rimmed and tired. I averted my own and took it as a sign. My retreat to the library was silent. I walked over to a bookshelf and thumbed through the spines looking for nothing in particular but with the same nervous energy as someone who had seen something she ought to not have seen.

A leather book stuck out to me and I pulled it from the shelf. I sat down in an arm chair and read without reading. The words went by but my mind was somewhere else. I didn’t want to think—I loathed to think—but I kept finding her like that and the image of my own tired puffy eyes were reflected in her face. What had she to cry about? Her lover was already dead. A good two years had already passed since then, but still she looked as if the news only broke yesterday.

I flipped a page in the book.

Was it worse to mourn a dead lover or a dying love? Wasn’t it the latter? At least most of those happy memories were preserved instead of each one slowly being tinged in a lonely sadness. How much more could she cry? She’s gone, I wanted to say to her.

I flipped another page angrily. A tear ripped through the middle of the paper and the sound brought me out of my thoughts. Panic gripped my stomach, this was something in Maxim’s prized collection. The shelf had been a symbol of pride for him, and I’d carelessly torn a page from one of his beloved books. I fixed the page back into the novel so that it did not poke out when I closed it. Perhaps if I put it off to the side Maxim would not notice. I did not see him read often.

Clarice came into the room suddenly. I would have jumped had I not heard her walking loudly in the corridor. She set down the tray of food and I sat down to eat. Was it improper of me to eat in the library? The thought had wandered into my mind the first time I’d requested to do so. But now it did not matter, people had no expectations for me, what was there to live up to when I couldn’t even begin to compare?

The phone rang from the Morning Room. I heard it even from across the hall all the way to the library. I dropped my spoon and walked as quickly as I could but it had already stopped ringing. Mrs Danvers had already answered it. I stood there watching her take the call; I couldn’t myself to move. But I couldn’t just stand idly by while she take my call—and one that I’d been desperately waiting for.

She looked as if she was about to hand up and that’s when I made my move. I rushed to her and grabbed the phone. I brought it to my ear but the line had already went dead.

“Maxim?” I said though I knew he wouldn’t hear.

I felt my eyes prick with tears, my stomach moved and I felt the room sway.

“It wasn’t, Madam,” she said calmly, “It was someone else calling for him. They said that Maxim would not be returning in a few days as planned. Unfortunately he’s had to extend his stay. He said not to call, he will not pick up, but to write a letter should you want to contact him.”

I shivered, and put the phone back onto the receiver. I’d already written him letters. But he had not replied once.

“Thank you, Mrs Danvers,” I managed to say.

I walked back to the library defeated.

****

It wasn’t until a week later when he finally came home. I nursed my hurt through it all hoping that when he did it would easily fade away. But he came home angry and upset. Autumn had begun already, and it was blowing fiercely as his car pulled into the driveway. I went to the front entrance to greet him, but he merely pushed past me and strode quickly into his study. I found him crouched at the fireplace trying to get it to start, his coat and things splayed across the table. I went over the fix it up and hang it amongst the others.

“Maxim, are you alright,” I said slowly.

“Goddamn it! Can you people leave me alone for one second.” The prong he’d been using to stir the embers whacked hard against the wood. I flinched at the sound.

“I’m sorry, Maxim.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes, I made the motion to leave but he bade me to wait.

I watched him stoke the fire until it burned enough to his satisfaction. He came over to me then and stroked my face gently. He took my hands and guided me towards the warmth of the fire. And, he embraced me, pulling me up into his chest. He was a tall man. If he wanted to kiss me I’d have to step onto my tiptoes and he’d have to crouch his back to meet my lips. I let my head rest against his heart, I couldn’t hear it over the crackling of the fire but I knew it was there.

“How are you?” he asked after a while, “How is the baby?”

And he let me out of his embrace for a moment to turn and hold me from behind. One hand rested on my belly and the other rested on my shoulder, his arm around my neck.

I stroked his arm and sighed into his elbow, “I’m fine, just tired. I can feel it moving though.”

“Sounds like a boy.” He rested his chin on top of my head. “I want a boy—a son. He’d be strapping like me.”

I hummed in acknowledgement. I could not control what child I was to have but it would do nothing to bring this fact up.

“Maxim,” I started slowly, “Did you not receive any of the letters I sent you?”

He thought about it a while, “Maybe they were lost in the mail? Or you’d sent them to the wrong address, I would not put it past you.”

It was hard to see me blush against the warmth of the fire but I felt the shame nonetheless. “I’m sure I sent it to the right one.”

“I received nothing.”

I nuzzled into his arm. “I sent three just in case. I had Frank take them urgently to the post office. Are you sure—”

“Yes,” he said tightly. The quiet warmth of the moment broke, and his arms dropped from me.

He sat down in his armchair and took out a cigarette. With a flick of his thumb the lighter lit it and he took in a long breath, and then exhaled a steady stream of smoke. I coughed from the armchair opposite him. He did this a couple more times and then tapped the ash from it onto the ashtray. And then he just sat there. He did not look interested in holding any conversation. The longer the silence built up between us the more I felt I should leave and let him rest. But I couldn’t leave without asking first.

I mustered the courage though it came out rushed and clunky, “Maxim, when—how long will you stay with me—here in Manderley—when…” I took a breath, “do you go back?”

And as if to answer for him the phone rang.

He rubbed his face angrily and he took a long drag at his cigarette before picking up the phone. The conversation was short.

“It was a mistake to come back to Manderely,” he said once he’d hung up the phone.

He strode over to where I had hung his coat and ripped it off the hook. I knew he didn’t mean it like that but it still hurt to hear. I followed him to the front door to at least bid him goodbye.

He turned around before he opened the door and called out to someone behind me, “I won’t be back for another week, keep Manderley as it were.”

“Yes, Mr de Winter,” a familiar voice said that made me shiver.

He turned forward and managed a few steps across the threshold before I grabbed his arm. “I love you, Maxim.”

He brushed his lips on my forehead and then he was gone. I dared not turn around lest she see my glistening eyes. I waited until I heard the click of her shoes walking away. I walked briskly back into Maxim’s study and shut the door. I felt like sliding down the cold wood and crying on the floor right then but I saw that he’d left satchel at home. I knew he’d notice sooner or later and come racing back home. I picked it up from the table, but it had been left open and its contents slipped out onto the table.

There they were; my three letters. All unopened. My face burned and I stuffed them all into the bag and redid the clasp. I left it there on the table and walked to the library. I hadn’t seen anything I told myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow long time no write, mates tbh I have no idea where to go with this fic,,, like i've gone through so many different ways about how to resolve this quickly but it's really turning out to be a slow burn and I can't >< why do i always do this to myself,,,,, this rly was meant to be like a quick exercise in angst but i was like no u gotta go through ten levels first before u can even get to the part that u actually want to write. if u saw any typos or inconsistencies no you didn't <3


	4. Chapter 4

I let myself indulge in self pity for the rest of the week.

The baby had grown more. It seemed to grow overnight nowadays. I was tired so much more often. Just today I’d already napped twice and still I couldn’t help but yawn. Maxim wasn’t to return home for another couple of days and I had so much time to fill.

Clarice came in with afternoon tea. I was sitting in the library again trying in vain to keep my eyes open at the blurring words in front of me.

“Mrs de Winter, your tea.”

“Thank you, Clarice,” I slurred.

I propped myself up and took a sip. The water burned my tongue and the cup clattered onto the saucer, some of it spilling onto my dress. Clarice rushed to my aid. The tea had seeped into the fabric and was slightly burning my chest, it did not help that it had already been hurting before.

“What should I do, Mrs de Winter?”

“Could you get me a change of clothes? I’m too tired to go up, it should be fine if I changed here, just make sure to close the door.”

She gave me a curt nod and left. I rubbed at the stain and sighed. Then there was another click of heels walking into the room, Clarice certainly had fast footwork to come back to soon, but it was not her. I felt some embarrassment for not recognising those footsteps sooner.

“No, Madam, it is only I,” she had replied when I called out Clarice’s name, “This came in quite late today.”

She held out a letter to me but I didn’t want to take it. I felt nauseous all of a sudden. She left it on the table instead when I had not reached for it.

“Is there anything I can do for the stain on your dress?”

I looked at it again and blushed ashamed, “No, no, Clarice is—”

And when I spoke she came in with a fresh set of clothes. She halted as soon as she saw Mrs Danvers and lowered her head, the stride in her step disappeared and she shuffled around her to give the new dress to me.

“Thank you, Clarice.”

“Do you plan to change here?” Mrs Danvers asked abruptly.

“Yes,” I said without looking at her, “Please leave—”

“I shall help you dress then.”

“No,” I said too quickly, “I’m fine. You may judge me for changing here instead of my room but I’m simply too tired to go up. Just leave me some privacy and close the door on your way out.”

She did go to the door then, but she only shut it. She did not leave.

“If you are tired, I will assist you.”

And I was. I was so desperately tired of being on edge around her. Every single thing she seemed to say felt like it was wrapped in many layers of meaning. That it did not mean what it meant, and that we had not spoken to each other—had not been on good terms for months—only made these small moments worse. I wanted to be touched by her. Like how it was before but she had made it clear.

I stood there staring at her. Clarice was still in the room, her head bowed and looking elsewhere.

Mrs Danvers became impatient at the lack of a response. She walked behind me and her hand brushed against my neck and against my back as she unzipped my dress. I shivered at the touch. She made the motion to pull it down and off me, but I stopped her.

“I’ll do the rest, Mrs Danvers.”

She sighed, “Just let me help you, Madam.”

I didn’t know what I should have done so I let her take the lead. She walked to stand in front of me and she pulled the dress off of my shoulders. She’d already seen me naked but I felt it even more so. Her eyes roamed my body and the way it changed. I wondered if she thought about the last time she’d seen my chest. I was still wearing underclothes but I kept thinking, would she be comparing her memory of me to the body that was stood before her now? I grabbed her shoulder to keep myself steady.

“You must eat more, Madam. It is not good for a woman of your condition to skip meals.”

So, she had noticed. I imagined her overlooking my dishes that had been brought into the kitchen, how much food I had wasted.

She held the dress out for me to step into and then pulled it up and over. She redid the zip and stepped away, done with her duties.

“Clarice, the tea,” she said and the younger maid pulled herself out of her head to pour me some, “the letter is there for you to read, Madam.”

I looked at the thing and I felt something move in my stomach.

“Should you need anymore assistance, do not hesitate to ask, Madam.”

She strode out of the library without a second glance. I sat down and took a sip. The tea had cooled off a bit and it felt nice to drink.

“I’ve been thinking, Mrs de Winter, would you prefer to be called Madam?”

I blinked; the question seemed to come from nowhere.

“Pardon me?”

“Well, it’s just that Mrs Danvers always seems to call you Madam. Am I… meant to do the same? Perhaps you prefer it to Mrs de Winter, after all…” she trailed off.

I knew where she meant to take her thought but I didn’t want to dwell on it.

“No, Mrs de Winter is fine. Madam feels… so impersonal, don’t you think? I am after all the only Mrs de Winter, there are many other Madams, it feels nice to be… recognised.”

I gave her a smile, and she returned it satisfied with my answer.

Truth be told I preferred neither. I did not feel like either. Whatever name anyone in this house called me it never seemed to fit. If I had asked Clarice to call me by my first name she would have profusely refused, it was only right for someone of her status to do so, and it made me feel so lonely.

There seemed to only be absolute politeness or absurd intimacy in this house. It seemed a far off fantasy, something completely made up, fabricated to make someone laugh that I had been intimate with someone other than my husband. Me of all people, let alone the housekeeper of the estate. Though, that was beside the point; I couldn’t even share an honest thought with her if I wanted to.

****

Maxim did return, and like the abiding wife I was I had conveniently forgotten everything that had happened between us the last time.

Though, I had left the letter unopened to spite Maxim. But the way he acted, I knew nothing of importance was contained in it. Perhaps it would have just been a piece of paper with a hastily written excuse, crudely folded up and stuffed into an envelope, and then given to someone else to take to the post office and mail before any more questions could be raised.

I had not thought to greet him and he had avoided me until later in the afternoon when he finally walked in annoyed that I had not been there at the door in the morning.

“I thought you missed me.” I did not look up from my book. He snatched it out of my hands, clear annoyance flashed across my face. “I’m talking to you.

“Yes, Maxim, I did,” I said to appease him.

“Ever since you’ve gotten pregnant you seem more all over the place than usual.”

“What am I supposed to do about that,” I said not expecting an answer.

“Well, you could smile more. They say if you act the way you want to feel you will become it.”

He sat next to me on the sofa, I felt it dip as he lowered his body down.

“Rub my thigh won’t you.”

I did as I was told.

“You know, I do so much for you, to keep you happy. I work such long hours; you could stand to be more hospitable when I’m home.”

I felt the energy drain out of me. I suspected he wanted an answer but before I could say anything he took my hand, the one that had been rubbing his thigh.

“Where’s your ring?”

I’d taken it off and set it in the bathroom sink, I could see it now sitting there lonely and had it been close to the edge I imagined it could very well have fallen down the drain.

“I took it off to take a bath earlier, I must have forgotten.”

“Is our marriage so inconsequential to you?”

I was stunned by sudden question. I felt it wrong that he would dare ask me, him out of everyone in this house to ask me; I, who had waited and waited for him, who did not dare to ask anything of him and settle for scraps. My face flushed then, with anger, a seething hatred that seemed to come from nowhere and yet completely I knew it had already been there from the start.

“What are you talking about Maxim?!” I said without trying to mask the hurt in my voice. I stood up wanting to leave before traitorous tears would eventually run down my cheek.

“Don’t,” he barked “talk to me like that. I worked too hard for you to sit down here and read all day. Do you know how much stress I’m in?! And for you to just say you forgot. I sent you flowers on our anniversary; I work to be the breadwinner so that you can lounge about here in Manderley!”

He would never let me forget it. That small token act of appreciation for our anniversary. He’d forgotten and gone to London, and they’d arrived late in the night, the mailman apologising profusely. When he came back he did not even think to try to make up for it as if the flowers made up for his absence that night. He did not even try to understand why I was so hurt by it all.

“You think it’s easy being me?!” His voice only got louder and rougher, “Where is your ring?! For god’s sake even I can remember to keep my ring on.”

He’d stood up and was slowly backing me up, each step more menacing the last. “I know you’re slow but I’d think you had more common sense than this.”

Nothing he said was making sense. My head was getting dizzy. He grabbed my arm and I jumped at his touch, trying to squirm my wait out of his tight grasp.

“Where is you goddamn ring?!” he bellowed.

“Maxim, please, please don’t,” I yelped, “You’re hurting me, Maxim, please.”

I scrambled to push him away. I felt tears run down.

Then, unexpectedly she walked in. His hands dropped from my arms, they throbbed at the sudden absence of pressure and I knew they’d bruise later. But, for now, I kept my head bowed low, my hair falling down to create a curtain of sorts to shield unwanted tears from their eyes.

Maxim went over to the table and poured himself a drink. “Take her to her room.”

Whatever she had come in to interrupt us for was second to attending to me. She held the door open and stepped to the side waiting for me to go. I turned my head towards Maxim without looking at him. He said nothing and I walked out of the room.

Mrs Danvers followed me from behind as we walked upstairs, but I could only manage partly halfway before the panic set it once more. It wasn’t a nervous sort of panic; it was the kind where I had no idea what I was doing with my life kind of panic. The sort of feeling when you wake up one morning to know that this was your life now, that you had made all the wrong decisions and were to live the rest of its consequences without complaint. Maxim and I would never grow out of this cycle of love and hate. I would never realise that I deserved more from him and I would never ask if I had ever come to that revelation either. This was as good as I was going to get. And the panic of it all scared me. I grabbed the banister and sank to my knees, I clutched my stomach too, I felt the baby move. It would become entangled in this mess as well, wouldn’t it? I could picture it now. My baby grown into a mere child asking with all the innocence of the world why their father would leave me crying so often. And as they aged and grew into adolescence and adulthood, they’d come to think that this was how all parents were—how all marriages turned out to be. And so, if it was a girl she would resign herself to the same fate as I did. If it was a boy he would think to act like his father.

I felt so much pity for the thing moving deep inside my belly. I stayed there crouched on the stair, nausea and pain washing over me in waves. Mrs Danvers stretched her hand for me to take but I brushed it aside and finally pulled myself up. This time she lead the way to my room, glancing back every so often to make sure I was still following.

The sun had already set and Mrs Danvers made the motion to illuminate the room but I stopped her.

“Just the bedside lamp are fine,” I said weakly, “My eyes will hurt if you turn the proper lights on.”

I walked over to my wardrobe and pulled a nightgown down.

“Mrs Danvers, my zipper.”

She did as she was told. I did not care by that point, all the shyness and worry of her seeing me naked had fallen away, and I let it fall to the ground exposing my body once more. She took the nightgown and helped me dress. There were a few buttons down the front and she took her time doing each one. There seemed to be a deliberate slowness to her actions as if she did not want to leave me to my own devices. When she was finally done she looked up from the buttons to my face and finally met my eyes. She touched my cheek then.

I had forgotten I was crying; the silent tears had kept flowing and she wiped them away with her thumb. There was a quiet sympathy in her eyes, some hint of a deeper concern. But I knew that she did not care, not really, not in the way I wanted her to. I would receive no comfort from her I was sure of it.

The thought of her comforting me, or the lack thereof, sent off another ripple of pain that emanated from beneath my belly. I felt like curling up into a ball on the floor.

I was so desperately lonely.

She grabbed my arms to keep me steady as I hunched my back, my hands wrapping around my body in an effort to stop it. There would never be an end to my suffering, only differing degrees of it. I needed to resolve myself to bear it. But it was so hard. It was too much to ask of a person.

I pushed Mrs Danvers away and shuffled onto the bed. I wanted to sleep.

“Madam…” She paused not quite knowing what to say next. “You should eat first.”

I laughed without meaning to. It felt absurd that that had been what concerned her now.

“I don’t care.”

“You should, Madam,” she said raising her voice slightly, “If not for yourself then for your child.”

“Why do you care?!” I hissed. I could not hold it in anymore. The growing bitterness I had for her seemed to spill out of my mouth so easily. “Don’t pretend like you know what’s best for me. Don’t pretend that you care now. Where were you all the other times I’d refused to eat? Where were you when I was sick kneeling on the edge of the toilet bowl?! You think you know what’s best for me, isn’t that right?! Aren’t I just an idiot to you, Mrs Danvers. A stupid bumbling fool who married the first man that gave her any sign of attention.”

“You think I don’t understand you,” she said calmly. I was not sure if it was meant to be a question or a statement.

“No, you don’t.”

I didn’t know if I should have kept talking but I confessed it because I wanted her to know. If she could ignore it the way that she saw how my body was so often afflicted with it then if she really wanted to she could pretend not to have heard it.

“I am so wretchedly lonely, Mrs Danvers.”

I looked at her, eyes full of tears.

“Do you know,” I said slowly and so softly I wasn’t sure she’d hear, “I’m not sure if you ever take a walk around Manderley’s grounds, Mrs Danvers, but there’s this little cliffside on the way to the Happy Valley." I turned my gaze from her towards the window. "Maxim had told me not to go too close to the edge lest the ground there fall away without warning. But, every day, when I go out to walk I find myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I never stray farther than where the trees grow—its not even that far from the cliff edge—I know that the roots there have hold of the ground at least, but the view there is lovely. In the afternoons right before sunset, the entire ocean glistens like orange and red jewels being tossed and pulled around. On afternoons like those sometimes I imagine it would not be so bad if the ground did fall away then; the sea looks so warm in that light and I imagine the water rushing to meet me and then embrace me.”

She wrapped her arms around me then. It felt like a bolt of electricity, the sudden warmth of her.

“Mrs Danvers…” I started to say but she only hushed me and squeezed tighter.

I felt her grasp for breath, her breathing coming out choked, instead of the silence I was used to hearing. She’d hugged me from the side and I felt her rest her chin on the dip between my shoulder and my neck. Hot tears ran down my arm.

“Mrs Danvers—”

She interrupted me with my name. I’d never heard it pass through her lips; it seemed far off and detached with the person I’d become. She breathed in deeply and raised her head as if to say to look at her, and I did. I saw her eyes shine with sadness I’d only seen her have for the woman before me.

“I will love you so don’t say anymore.”

The tears fell then. They burned down my cheeks and I felt myself return to my body. I’d numbed myself as if I was there on the cliffside ready to fall, and she had pulled me back in the brink of time, pulled me back into myself. I cried into her arms and we fell back into the bed. She kissed my forehead and my cheeks and my eyes; and I tasted the salt in her tears as they ran down my own face.

She laid with me the whole night, my belly pressed into her stomach and our legs tangled together. Her hand rubbed slow circles into my back, the warmth radiating from her palm, softly massaging the small aches and pains as the baby moved. And her other wrapped around my shoulders keeping me to her chest. For once I wished that the night would last forever so that I could stay gently in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally settled on a non-ending so welp let's see if i add a continuation to this series, either way enjoy, this is the last chapter of this fic and is being posted on an all nighter delirium so maybe it won't make sense but it's here it's done.
> 
> I'm gonna go pass out <3

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this just to explore how danny and ich would change relationship-wise with a baby thrown in for fun but I didn't realise that it fundamentally changes their entire dynamic so after they fall apart I had a couple more scenes and then just ???? in the rest of my document bc I couldn't work out how to get them back together SDJFSDKFJLKSDFJ so I'm just gonna post this first part and we'll see if I can finish it.


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